


C'est la Mort ou L'Amour

by theincredibleredhead



Category: Notre-Dame de Paris | The Hunchback of Notre-Dame - Victor Hugo
Genre: F/M, Loss of Control, Loss of Innocence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:13:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25830379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theincredibleredhead/pseuds/theincredibleredhead
Summary: Claude Frollo chooses fate for Esmeralda.
Relationships: Esméralda | Esmeralda/Claude Frollo
Comments: 13
Kudos: 66





	1. C'est la Mort ou L'amour

La Esmeralda slept soundly with Djali at her side even through the noise of the crowd that was growing outside of the Cathedral. Djali grew restless with the approaching crowd and began bleating piteously. She steadily awakened and rushed to her window to see what the noise was.

She saw the small fires of the black mass below and heard the unintelligible screaming. She had heard stories of the creatures of the night and believed that Hell had opened before her. She grew frightened and as a child will do, she ran and hid in a corner of her room. She held her goat against her with one arm and clutched her tiny shoe with the other.

She trembled from fear and uncertainty of what would happen to her. She prayed for mercy from God and the Holy Mother for someone, anyone, to rescue her and save her from the mouth of Hell.

Out of her sadness, she heard footsteps near her. She covered her eyes and hid under her blanket, fearing that the priest would come for her and throw her into the fires of Hell beneath her.

Out of her terror, she heard a familiar voice. "Don't be afraid, I came for you!"

She recognized the voice as that of Pierre Gringoire, the foolish poet and her sham of a husband. She uncovered herself and saw the bright smiling face. Next to him stood a dark mass that was cloaked from head to toe in black. Its hands were covered.

Djali wrestled itself from her grasp and rubbed itself on Gringoire's knees. He scratched the goat's head and cooed at it. She looked once more at the dark figure and asked "Who is this with you?"

"One of my friends. We will rescue you from here, but you must come now. You are in grave danger and so is Djali! They wait outside and beg for your death. They want to hang you." Her gently took her hand and pleaded "Please, come now! We will take you away from here to safety!"

She took his hand, still staring at the black figure, and decided to come with him. Perhaps she would see her love Phoebus and he would rescue her! She allowed herself to be led away and let Gringoire hold Djali.

They escaped the cathedral and made their way to a hidden boat on the Seine. Gringoire carefully placed Djali in the boat and helped Esmeralda in second. He exclaimed in joy "We are safe now, but we must get away. We know a place where you will be safe. You have to trust us."

Esmeralda continued to watch the black shape and noticed it watching her. She ignored the ramblings of Gringoire and looked ahead. She heard the stranger sigh and trembled at the sound. It was familiar, but she couldn't place the sound.

Ahead, she saw a crowd howling for her death surrounding the cathedral and swarming through the streets. "Death to the sorceress! Let the witch burn!"

She hid her head in her hands and began to cry.

Gringoire looked the weeping girl and the goat he held in his arms. His bravery that he felt earlier had left him. How could he leave this poor goat to die? It would be a waste. A horrible waste. His companion could save the girl. After all, who better to save her?

"I cannot save you both!" he exclaimed.

He lept from the boat and shoved her hands off him as he clung to her goat and disappeared into the streets. Esmeralda cried out and tried to leap after him. She stood knee deep in the Seine as she begged for him to come back. 

She stood silent as he disappeared into the night, leaving her alone with the black shadow. It reached out for her and she felt a cold hand on her shoulder. It trailed its fingers down her arm as if it was caressing her and held onto her hand with a gentle yet strong grasp. The shadow led her out of the water and towards the Place de Greve.

She felt drained as she allowed herself to be led by the figure. She felt as though she was being led to her fate by some mysterious angel of death. She felt all resistance leave her as she was led to the gallows. The figure left her at the foot of it and lowered his cowl.

She cried in fear "Oh! The priest! I knew that it was you again!"

The spectral figure of Dom Claude Frollo stood before her. His pale skin appeared ghostly in the moonlight. His eyes burned into her as if they were fire. She trembled under his gaze and clutched the gallows to her as if it was her savior.

"Listen to me!" his spectral form thundered. "This is the Greve and the final point. Destiny brings us to each other. Tonight, I decide to your life as you will decide to my soul. We are alone here and do not try to cry for your pathetic Captain. Even now, he cries for your death. His bride cries louder. If you speak that name, I will do something terrible."

His voice grew softer and lower as he reached out his hand to brush her hair back from her face. She recoiled from his touch and turned away.

"Do not turn from me. You must listen to me! There is a letter from Parliament that gives you back to the hangman. I have rescued you from their hands. If we don't hurry, they will have you!"

The cries of the crowd grew louder "Death to the sorceress! Death to the witch! Let her burn!"

"They come for you. Know that I love you and have prepared a place for you if you will have me. You will be safe. Come with me my dear. The time is now!"

He raised his hand and pointed above her, "The gallows or me!"

Esmeralda clutched the wood of the Greve, looking like the Holy Mother at the foot of the cross. Her long hair covered her and the foot of the Greve in a mantle of black. Her gown was pure white except for the darkened area from where she stood in the water. She met his fiery gaze and said "It scares me less than you do!"

"If the stones could speak, they would say that a broken man stands here" His voice lowered again, becoming softer and gentler.

"I love you. My heart burns for you both day and night. I suffer too much my child and burn at the thought of the horror that I bring you. I would fall at your knees and worship you No, not even your knees, but the ground near you. I would tear my own heart out if you would tell me but one kind word! Could a gentle heart as compassionate as yours not see the love I have for you? You are too pure and good to hate anyone. But no, you hate me". He wept into his hands as she watched him in horror. "I have sacrificed it all for you. I watched everything I love dashed to the ground because of you. I have chosen to love a woman and sacrificed my brother for you".

She watched as his movements grew erratic and braced herself for what she knew would come. His madness was growing and she trembled in fear. He took one of her hands into his iron grasp and kissed the palm. She tried to pull away from him as his lips burned into her hand.

"Give me but a kind word and I will save you. There lies beneath us a bottomless abyss where I will follow you for all eternity".

She could not bring herself to say any word to him. She silently held on to the Greve. She thought about his words. Not even death would stop him. There was no running from him this time. No hero to save her. She remembered the possessive look that Phoebus gave his bride. He would not save her.

He pulled her to him with an inhuman strength and laughed in pure madness. "I will have you. If not me as your slave, you will have me as your master. I have made a place for us where I will drag you. You will follow me and be mine, or you will die. Don't you see my beauty? Belong the priest, belong to the sinner. Tonight! Kiss me my sweet girl! The grave or my bed".

He held her to him and placed a trail of kisses down her neck. She struggled against him, but her strength was no match for his. She felt a lewd hand trail down her neck to reach beneath her gown. His cold hand caressed one of her breasts and he moaned into her hair. "I will save you".

She tried to scream, but the priest covered her mouth with his hand. "You will not be theirs again. You are mine. The grave will not have you today".

He jerked her head back to his and placed a burning kiss on her lips. She tried to scream once more, but he only deepened the kiss. All of her strength left her and she fainted at the taste of his mouth.

He scooped her into his arms and covered her body with his cowl, hiding her within the mass of black. They disappeared into the night together.


	2. La Belle Dormant

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frollo thinks on women. These are not my own opinions of course, but they are period typical thoughts on the nature of women. I'm trying to keep things accurate here. Basically, he is a perv that doesn't know how to process emotions.

Dom Claude Frollo, former Archdeacon of Josas, finally had his hands on La Esmeralda. The object of his affections that he had spent many months pining for was his. Her tiny form laid in his arms, pliant and delicate. He gave her lips another kiss. Her taste overwhelmed his senses and he knew that he could not leave her to the hand of the executioner or the hand of the Nun Gudule that hated all of her kind.

He admitted to himself that he almost left her in the hands of the Nun Gudule. Her rejection hurt, but some couples would be unhappy at first, but grow to love each other in the end. He believed that she would grow to rely on him and love him. They would become one of the happy couples that talked for hours. He looked forward to the day that she would accept him and let it become his reality.

He knew he had to take her away. He had planned to take her away to safety after he learned of her miraculous escape from the hands of the executioner. He had prepared every detail and only waited on the proper time. He had prepared his family home at Tirechappe where they would be undisturbed for a time. Everything was ready, he only waited on her. He was an immaculate man after all.

Claude had avoided the family home for some time. He was always reminded of the horrors of finding his family dead and his brother Jehan abandoned and forgotten by all. The old home carried far too many painful memories. But now he would make new ones by bringing his object of affections home.

The old home was a long enough walk, but he rushed to get there before the girl in his arms came to.

Upon arriving at Tirchappe, Claude lay down on his parent's bed and held the sleeping girl. His heart filled with emotion for this tiny creature in his arms. How far he had fallen and was willing to go for her. He was willing to give up his title, years of study, and all for the love of this girl. But what was a woman, he asked himself.

He had read about the nature of woman and had thought on it many times. He thought of how Samson, the mighty hero of old, succumbed to the charms of Delilah. Adam surrendered to the charms of Eve. He had wondered why anyone would surrender to a woman and looking down at Esmeralda, he understood why. Woman had a power over man, and he was no different. The beauty of this woman drove him, a proud man of God that never dared to look at woman, mad.

Frollo had found any material that discussed the nature of woman and remembered a passage from Malleus Maleficarum that described women as being "an unescapable punishment, a necessary evil, a natural temptation, a desirable calamity, a domestic danger, a delectable detriment, an evil of nature, painted with fair colors".

This woman was no different. He watched his world fall apart under her tiny feet. Her beautiful face and form haunted his every waking moment. His nights were filled with longing for pleasures that were yet unknown to him. He had felt the softness of her skin and had seen hints of her charms. Her dances told stories of a lithe body twisting and undulating in the pleasure of passion. He groaned when he remembered the way that her breast had felt under her gown and the way her flesh molded to his hands. He had only seen the female form in books and art, but he knew that it would be far more beautiful.

The priest thought about lust and the words of Augustine of Hippo came to his mind. "Give me chastity and continence, but not just yet".

He had ridiculed others for their lust. He had heard of many of his fellow priests keeping mistresses and breaking their vows. At one time he fancied himself the loudest voice of chastity and held his chastity to be a supreme virtue. He now longed to be rid of it. If the early Church fathers struggled with it, was it so bad for him?

He had decided that night in the cathedral that if he couldn't have her, no one would. He thought of her body twisting and palpitating under him. Her soft curves molding to his searching hands. He felt his body burn at the memory.

Frollo looked down the still unconscious Esmeralda. He remembered her exposed shoulders and chest that he had seen that dreadful night that he stabbed the Captain. The memory of her bare skin had tortured him for many nights.

He stared down at her and bit his lip at the sight of her body. She was young, but he didn't realize how young. She lay before him, the picture of innocence. He blushed at the sight of her bare shoulders and the hint of breasts. He yearned to touch her and so he did. His fingers trembled with the contact.

Her neck was long like a swan and he traced her fingers down the string of her necklace to her small, round breasts. He had never seen such sweetness, covered though they were. He reverently touched them and felt the way they fit in his hands. Her waist was small, yet supple. Her hips and thighs were beautifully rounded. He burned at the thought of what lay between her legs. Her calves were well muscled from dancing. He traced his long fingers down her body.

No, he would not be burdened with the weight of chastity anymore.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will get a little more graphic with adult themes and next will too. I do not condone any of the actions in this, but you have been warned.

Esmeralda slowly regained consciousness. Her mind was full of strange thoughts and none of them made any sense to her. She could see shadows around her and remembered strange words and visions. She saw the shadow of the gallows and arms carrying her away, she heard a strange voice call her name and say words that made no sense. All were shadows and shadows of thoughts. None made any sense to her. She processed each one and they only left her more confused.

As she came to, she felt small touches on her neck and chest. She felt softness and warmth under her. She grew afraid and put her hand to her face to settle her mind. Her head felt as if it was spinning. She felt a cold hand trail up to her cheek. She opened her eyes out of curiosity and felt fear overtake her.

She saw the face of the priest, her pursuer, looking down at her. She forcefully pushed his arms away from her and tried to escape from his embrace. His hand caught one of her delicate wrists and pulled her back to him. "Where am I? Oh, I thought it was all a dream, a horrible dream!"

She tried to push his hands off and stand, but he pulled her back into his arms. "Fear not my child. There is no danger anymore. The guards came for you, to take you away to die. I couldn't let that happen. You surrendered yourself to my protection and no one will ever harm you again." He traced a finger down her cheek "You are safe with me".

Safety, she thought not. She thought back to the night at the cathedral where he tried to touch her and kiss her. She trembled under his touch and knew that there would be no escape this time. There was no Quasimodo this time. Phoebus belonged to another and he rejected her. He would not rescue her. Her "husband" Gringoire was a spineless coward that preferred her goat to her. She tried to think of a plan of escape and saw no way out. The lamb was cornered by the wolf.

This man was clearly mad. He had watched her for months; she saw his hand behind everything that had gone wrong. What lengths would he go to? She knew now that he would pursue her no matter how far she ran. She saw no way out and desperately prayed for one. She felt hopeless and was absolutely terrified at the madness of this man.

She looked around to find the nearest escape. The windows of the room let in the light of the moon. It made the mad man's eyes to appear to glow like the predator that he was. She saw a glint of metal across the room. 'It must be the way out' she thought to herself. If only she could reach it.

Claude looked at the pale, trembling form in his arms. Whether it was from cold or from terror, he cared not. She was in his power now and there was nothing that she could do about it. He would have her now.

The girl appeared to be distracted so he lowered his lips to her cheek and started to kiss her there. She frantically tried to push his lips away, but he only grew wilder with his affections. He trailed kisses to her neck and bit the side of her neck, making the girl cry out.

She cried and thrashed about as he pulled her gown lower, "What did I ever do to you to deserve this? I've never hurt you; I've never wronged you. Why do you keep me like this? Why treat me this way?"

Her captor acted as though he was amused. "Fate destined you for me, my dear girl. You fell into my protection when I would have left you to the will of the Greve. You surrendered yourself to me and now, the time has come to surrender to your fate. Remember, the tomb or my bed".

He lowered his voice to an almost seductive tone. "I have longed for you for many nights. I have dreamt of the sweetness your body possesses and the charms that are yet unknown to me. Give in to my love, fall into my arms, surrender your body to me. Let us find pleasure in each other as we discover love together".

Esmeralda felt nauseous at the thought of what he was implying. She had avoided the affections of men until Phoebus came into her life. She had protected her maidenhood and most certainly didn't want this man to be the one to take it.

He continued, "I have spent many nights delirious at the thought of you. I have dreamt of us baring ourselves for the first time, of your body entwined with mine. Of your sweet blushes as I worship your body".

Claude continued lower and kissed her breasts. He grew more daring and brought one of them to his mouth. She was shocked when he drew her nipple into his mouth and started to suckle. He moaned against her flesh as he admired the way her soft skin felt in his mouth. She gathered all of the strength that she had left and withdrew from him. She tried to rush towards the door, but before she could make it more than a few steps, she felt the sleeve of her gown tear. She flung herself towards the exit, only to find it locked.

Her captor reached for her again like a thief for a jewel. She fought like an angry kitten, hissing, clawing, and kicking. Her movements were erratic and desperate. Fear of what this man would do spurred her to escape. He fought to contain her and was stunned with a sharp jab of her elbow to his stab wound on his chest. The wound broke open and started to bleed again. The shock of pain made him lose his grip on her and she fell to ground. Her head hit the floor hard and she was still. He noticed a small pool of blood start to form beneath her. The impact of the fall caused a small area of skin on her forehead to split.

He once more gathered her up. The blood from his stab wound and the blood from her stained the once pure white of her gown. He was amused at the morbid symbolism of their blood mingling together. Just at their blood had became one, so would they.


	4. Viole

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains sexual assault. Abandon hope all ye who enter here.

How perfect she fits in my arms, Claude thought to himself. He cradled Esmeralda's form in his arms. She felt as though she weighed nothing to him. She was like a doll in a child's arms, just as helpless. She groaned in his hold and brought her hand up to where her forehead had split. Her hand came away bloody. He examined the cut and determined that it had only split the skin, not anything beneath it. Head wounds often looked worse than they were. He had taken care of many cuts, bumps, and bruises from his two adopted sons. It would likely leave a scar.

He would tend to it and afterwards, he would tend to his unfinished business with the girl. The sleeve of her gown was already ripped so he would use that. He ripped it off the rest of the way, revealing a shapely arm. He held pressure to her forehead with the fabric until the bleeding stopped. She tried swatting his hands away, but she was weak. He tied the fabric to her forehead. Not an ideal job, but he made do with what he had. 

Now to the rest of the girl and unfinished business. 

Claude carefully laid her down on his bed. He would try to take his time to enjoy what had for so long been denied to him. How beautiful she looked laid out in front of him.  
He leaned forward and kissed her hair, inhaling its fragrance. She reminded him of flowers in spring, of open fields, and of something that was distinctly female. He admired how smooth it felt between his fingers, even with blood in it. He brought his hand behind her head and brought her up to meet his lips. He caressed them with his and invaded her mouth with his tongue. He moaned into her mouth as she tried to bite back at him.

His lips moved to her neck, trailing kisses to the shoulder that was now uncovered to his eyes. Her skin that had once kissed by the sun would now be kissed by him. He started to nuzzle at the place where her neck met her shoulder. He bit down. The girl groaned in pain and tried to push his head and lips away.

He would comply, but only because he knew there was so much more to see. He took in the sight of her beneath him and drew her gown down to expose more of her flesh to him. She reached up to keep her breasts covered with what was left of her gown. Claude admired her determination to preserve her modesty but thought that it was unnecessary. She was in his power after all and he had every right to see what belonged to him. He pinned her wrist next to her and uncovered her breast to his eyes and touch. 

How perfect they fit in my palms, he thought to himself. He massaged one while his lips caressed the other. He was enraptured by them. He drew her nipple into his mouth and suckled on her like a child from its mother. He loved the way they felt through her gown earlier, but how much sweeter they were without. Her nipple swelled in his mouth. 

She tried to claw and pull at his hair with the hand that was not pinned. He took her blows as caresses and they only aroused him more. Her protests were no match for his strength. He now held both of her wrists down. His free hand wondered further down to raise the hem of her gown, raising it to expose her shapely thighs and what lay between them to his eyes for the first time. He had never seen that part of a woman before. 

He caressed the soft skin of her inner thighs She tried to close her legs, but he forced himself between them. She could not struggle and hide herself from him any longer. That time had long since passed. She would submit.

Her flesh was hidden under dark hair. He palmed at her virgin core and tried to probe at what he knew what hidden from him. His finger found her and pressed against her. He pushed against until he felt her flesh give. She shrieked with obvious discomfort at the intrusion, but he knew it was nothing compared to the pain he would give her later. He had heard of such things. His groin throbbed with need and he knew he had to have her. Now.

He raised his cassock to free himself from its confines. He felt his flesh against her leg and guided himself to where he was touching earlier. He probed at her flesh with his manhood and thrust in until there was a give. Her flesh gave way before him.

Esmeralda screamed with pain and fought against him. She flailed her body about and tried to rid herself of the intruder. Oh, my sweet virgin girl, he moaned to her. She tried to pull away, but he met her with another thrust, pinning her in place. Her body constricted around him. 

He freed her wrists and she sank her nails into his back. Her resistance only gave him more pleasure as he rushed to his climax. His cries of pleasure matched her cries of pain as he sank as far in as he could go. A shudder and overwhelming sensation filled him as a great wave of ecstasy came over him. 

He unsheathed himself from her and noted the blood of her maidenhood that covered him. The girl curled on her herself, tears dripping from her eyes.

He had conquered her at last.


	5. Viole: Le Seconde

The haunting, soulful wails of a young woman echoed through the night. Cries of pain, fear, shame, and terror. They rose and fell like a song. Ebbing and flowing.

The source of those screams was none other than the once proud Esmeralda. Her pride was gone now. She lay on her side curled up in as tight of a ball as she could. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she held herself as though she were scared that she would fall apart. Her long black hair covered her trembling body.

Her large brown eyes that once viewed the world with such wonder and curiosity were now bloody from the vessels that had broken in her eyes from the intensity of her screams. Esmeralda looked as pale as a ghost. Her once flawless skin was covered with bite marks and bruises from where her pursuer had left his mark. The smell of sweat and a metallic-like scent assaulted her senses. A dull ache came in waves from between her legs.

Esmeralda's mind was in an uproar. The scenes and sensations played themselves again and again. Each time they did, she curled tighter in on herself. She felt so many things that she did not understand. She didn't know how or why things had happened. She knew that what happened to her was wrong and an affront against nature. She pushed the word for it as far back in her mind as she could. The word was too brutal for her.

Cold.

Warmth.

Burning.

Moans of Pleasure.

Screams of Pain.

The sound of skin against skin

Broad, brown shoulders

Her tormentor's face in ecstasy

Bright red blood

Her stomach was in an uproar. She uncurled herself enough to hang her head over the side of the bed that she was laying on to vomit. The force of the heaves caused her already throbbing head to hurt more. The suffering girl dry heaved.

A cold hand touched her shoulder, brushed her hair away from the front of her face, and held it away from her. The touch made her heave harder.

The heaves stopped and Esmeralda curled in on herself again. She trembled with greater ferocity when she heard something near her. She felt a touch along her body. Someone had slipped in behind her. Arms encircled her and drew her in to a source of warmth. She heard a rustling of fabric and felt something cover her.

A kiss was pressed against her cheek and she did not respond. The form pulled her in closer to it and she heard a soft yet somehow broken voice sing in words that she didn't understand. A cold hand traced itself up and down her flanks in soothing motions.

At long last, the suffering child fell into a deep sleep. She would be able to forget her troubles there for a time.


	6. Claude Pense d'Esmeralda

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude's POV after the assault. That dirty perv.

The sun had started to rise. It cast its first rays of light upon the forms of Esmeralda and Claude Frollo. Claude sighed as he took in the view. He lay next to the girl and admired the way the rays made her mass of dark hair appear to be streaked with gold. It bathed her features in its pure light. The light displayed her feminine curves in all their glory. he caressed the curve of her waist and hips.

The light also illuminated the many bruises that marked the girl’s once flawless skin. Her neck and shoulders bore the brunt of his affections and were covered with bite marks and bruises. He traced one of the largest marks on her neck from where he bit down in a moment of ecstasy. Broken blood vessels marred her skin.

Claude looked down at his own arms and noted the scratch marks that stretched over them. He felt the sting of more on his back. He still felt a dull pain from where she planted her foot in his chest in her attempt to escape. He thought to himself that just as he had left his mark on her, she too had left her marks on him.

He had refused and avoided the attentions of women his whole life. Before meeting Esmeralda, Claude would keep his gaze lowered to the ground and would hide at the mere rustle of a skirt. He had taken his vows of chastity very seriously and was proud of maintaining them.  
Until now. 

The pleasure that he had felt with Esmeralda was the most breathtaking sensations of his life. He had spent many a night with his hand to find release at the mere thought of her, but nothing could compare to the release that he had found inside of her. 

He moaned at the memory of uncovering her body to find what had been denied to him and exploring what no one had ever seen before. Never could he have imagined that one person could possess such sweetness. Her soft curves molding to his lips and adoring touch. Such ecstasy. He would never forget the soft moans as he caressed her virgin body. He could still taste her flesh on his tongue.  
He felt such pride when he pierced her virgin barrier for the first time. He knew he was her first and he would be her last. He would always own that part of her. The sensation of being buried inside of her was unlike anything he had ever felt. The enveloping warmth that drew him into her was nothing short of pure ecstasy. 

But… something was wrong. Even though he had felt immense pleasure, he felt shame as well.

Claude didn’t expect her to react the way she had. Her screams after he took his pleasure in her almost made him regret what he did. The way her small form curled into herself and trembled with fear evoked the same pity he felt with the young Quasimodo. Her screams and tears crushed his heart the same way her foot was crushed under the torturer’s cruel hand. 

The girl was delirious for most of the night. She screamed, cried, vomited, and tore at herself. She screamed until her voice was hoarse and could scream no more. He had never seen such agony in a person. All he could do was to comfort her until it passed. Her had wrapped her in his arms and held her against his body. The same body that had caused her agony. 

He looked down at his hands. Her taunts of “Look Father, you have blood on your fingers” echoed in his mind. 

The blood from her wounds stained his hands and body. It had dried on him. Some areas were clean from where he wiped her tears away. 

But did she not deserve what had happened? After all, she had paraded herself in front of men. She had displayed herself in a brazen way with her dancing. She flaunted her ankles and calves with her spins and displayed her shapely form for all to see. The little temptress would have given herself to Phoebus if had not interrupted her. 

Phoebus was a whole different matter. He had done her a favor had he not? Phoebus would never have honored the gift of her maidenhood as he had. He would have taken what was not his by right and used her. She would have just been another pretty face to Phoebus and he would have forgotten her. Phoebus would have left her in her maiden’s blood and went on to the next girl without a second though. Claude had comforted her in his own way.

He didn’t want to think of the lout any longer. Either way, Claude had won what he saw as a battle. The girl had tempted him and tried to get the upper hand. She tried to conquer him with her seductive ways. He conquered her instead.  
Let her cry her tears for now. Soon, she would learn to enjoy him as he enjoyed her. They would bask in each other’s attentions. They would find pleasure in the act of love. Maybe she would come to him? He firmly believed that she would. The thought of her straddling him, riding him, and moaning in ecstasy sent shivers down his spine. The time would come, but until then, he would be the master of her.


	7. Danse La Esmeralda

The first thing Esmeralda noticed upon waking was that she was alone. The priest had thankfully left sometime before the sun had risen. He had tried to kiss her before leaving on whatever business he had to attend to and she numbly had to accept it. She tried to act like she was made of stone to quell his advances. He kissed her icy cheek, sighed, and left her. 

She prayed a silent prayer of thanks that he was gone. Now, she could try to figure her way out of this mess.

On wobbly legs, she got out of bed. The movement only made her aching head and body hurt worse, but she had to put as much space between her and the bed as she could. Esmeralda looked down at it in disgust. She noticed the blood stains on the blankets and bits of ripped fabric laying about. “That monster!” she mumbled to herself. 

She tried to draw what was left of her white gown from the cathedral over her, but he had ripped it. All her life, she had protected her modesty. She had never let anyone see her in a state of undress. Just like everything else she had, he had stolen that from her too. 

Tears dropped onto her cheeks as she clutched what was left of her gown to cover herself. She could almost feel his wretched hands and lips on her skin. His scent clung to her skin and permeated her clothing. She tried to clear her mind, but thoughts of him intruded there. She let herself cry for a few moments and wrapped her arms around herself. Esmeralda rallied herself decided to not let any thought of that wretched priest disturb her anymore. He had taken everything from her, but he would not steal her mind. That was the one place he couldn’t invade and she fought herself to keep the wretched scenes of him out of it.

She resolved to escape and never see the horrid man again. She looked around her to take in her surroundings and make her plan of escape. The room was far more luxurious than she was used to. She had tried to keep her tiny home in the Court of Miracles as decorated as she could. All of her things were a hodgepodge of furniture and cast offs that she had found. She had decorated with flowers and pieces of fabric to add a touch of femininity. Her home didn’t compare to this.

While it was by no means upper class, it was not shoddy either. There were real glass panes on the windows that let in a gentle light that radiated off the stark white walls. The furniture was of a fine dark oak with a large chest at the food of the bed. The floor was covered with what once has surely been a fine rug from the far east. The reds and golds had faded with time. The air seemed heavy like the room had not been used for some time. Despite that, it was clean. Immaculately so.  
She cursed the priest when she saw that the windows and doors were locked. “Of course he would lock me in!” she said to herself. As a child, she was rather good at unlocking things. She would manage to use hair pins and anything else she could find to pick locks. It had got her out of several less than favorable situations. “If only I had something to pick the lock”. 

She stood in front of the door for a moment, trying in vain. She decided to search for something to help her. She knelt down in front of the chest at the foot of the bed to see if she could find anything to help her. “And maybe there will be something else for me to wear”. She wanted to throw the ripped gown as far away from her as she could, but that would leave her with nothing. Not the best idea with the situation she found herself in. She opened the chest and saw what looked like a pile of old fabric and children’s clothes. 

She held a piece of fabric up to examine it. It was an old swaddling blanket. It appeared to be finely embroidered. The embroidery was frayed because of its age, but she could still make out birds and flowers on it. It must have taken the original maker ages to make. Esmeralda set the piece to the side and continued to search through the chest. She found several other embroidered pieces and children’s toys. Each appeared to be made for a child and was carefully crafted for tiny bodies. Some looked to be made for infants, others for larger children.

She wondered who they were made for and what happened to the children that they belonged to. She had a troubling thought that they were victims of her captor. She had heard mothers in her tribe tell their children stories about a goblin monk that stole children that misbehaved. Maybe the stories were true?

The thought of her captor sent shivers own her spine. She remembered her promise to herself to not let thoughts of that wretched man disturb her anymore.  
ed. That’s what she would do. 

She closed the trunk and sat for a moment to figure out what she needed to do. All she could do was sit, sleep, or pace the room. She was too afraid to sleep and sitting would only let her thoughts come back. The thought of dancing occurred to her. "Yes, that's what I will do".

She started by slowly rising from the ground and stretching towards the ceiling. She drew her legs together and stood onto the balls of her feet and felt the muscles in her body lengthen. She slowly made circles with her wrists and lifted them towards the ceiling. She started a slow dance with movements that mimicked the waves of the ocean. Every muscle in her body ached, but the movements were something familiar to her. She lost herself in her routine. She found a brief moment of peace in them. 

She was so lost in her movements that she didn’t realize that she was not alone until a strong pair of arms encircled her waist and a body pressed itself against her. Her nightmare had returned.


	8. Dissocier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another glance at the state of Claude and Esmeralda's mind. With some smash thrown in for good measure.

Claude Frollo had left early in the morning to go back to his lonely cell in the cathedral to get supplies for himself and things for the girl. He gave strict orders to the caregivers of his family home to keep the master room locked while he was gone and not to disturb her. He gave some vague excuse about the girl being ill and of delicate health. No one would question him. They would likely think she was another one of the “strays” that he brought home or perhaps one of Jehan’s playthings.

Either way, Claude believed that he didn’t have to worry about coming back to an empty room. He had checked and double checked the room to make sure there was no way for her to escape. He was confident in his abilities to predict her actions. He had also made sure there was nothing she could use to hurt herself. “After the way she acted last night, she very well may try” he said out loud.

He paced and looked around in his soon to be empty cell in the cathedral. It was full of many things that he had found interesting. He had tools for many experiments, a skull that belonged to one of his favorite horses from his childhood, his medical equipment, and enough books to fill a library. Altogether, it was a strange collection of things for a strange man. Each object pointed to an obsession that he had at one time of his life. 

Claude stopped his pacing to pause at the window where he had first watched Esmeralda dance. He thought of how different his life would have been if he had never watched her. How much simpler things would have been. “But I wouldn’t know the joy of a woman” he said to himself. The thought brought him to his next problem and Esmeralda was that problem.

He still felt guilty about forcing his attentions on the girl. Her tears and obvious fear almost stopped him, but it was a husband’s right. While they were not married in the technical sense of the word, he considered them to be. After all, they had consummated their marriage and he promised that he would provide for her as a husband should. It was good enough in his mind. He would provide for her and she would provide her body for him to explore and do with as he pleased. It was only right. He gave her the ultimatum. “The tomb or my bed”. Her ability to answer at the time was inconsequential. Love would come eventually. He firmly believed that it would. And she would come to find pleasure in the act of love. He intended to do that as soon as he got home.

His mind started to fantasize how she would welcome him. _Esmeralda taking me by the hand and kissing me with the same passion she showed The Lout. Her lips against mine, biting, licking, and teasing. Planting kisses across my face to my ear and begging me to take her. Her small fingers swiftly removing my clothes and her nude body before me like Aphrodite. Her perfect body writhing against me and moaning in pleasure as I worship her neck, her breasts, her hips, her sweet rounded thighs. Her sweet moans as I take her again and again until we are satiated with love_. His body started to respond to his fantasies. He had to get back to her immediately. 

* * *

Claude arrived at Tirechappe ahead of his things. He had to make sure the bird didn’t “fly the nest”.

He had entered the bedroom as silent as the specter that he was rumored to be. He tried to be as quiet as he could in the event that Esmeralda was resting. Much to his surprise, she was not asleep or missing, but appeared to be lost in a dance.

He was enraptured by Esmeralda’s dance. Despite the obvious discomfort that she must have been in, she was still beautiful. Her movements were fluid and smooth like flowing water. He could see the curving lines of her body through her gown. Her arms were held aloft like a bird about to take flight.

Claude stayed still and silent until the girl spun around. Her eyes became round with fear and anger when she saw who had disturbed her. Claude set the things that he had brought with him down and rushed over to her. He wrapped the girl in his arms and buried his face in her mass of hair. What had once been silky had become tangled and coarse. He planned to remedy that.

Claude stood there with her for a few moments. He felt her body tense in his arms. Esmeralda grimaced as he made his unwanted contact and tried to push against him to put distance between them.

Her strength was once more no match for his. He ignored her feeble attempt and lowered his lips to her face. He placed small butterfly kisses across her tearstained cheeks and forehead before pressing his lips against hers.

Esmeralda let out a noise of clear and utter disgust. She hated the way that he made her feel so weak and she hated the sick, possessive smile on his face when he looked at her. She could still feel the smile on his lips. She tried to pull her head away from him, but the priest had other ideas.

His hand clutched the back of her head to hold her in place as his mouth crushed hers. His lips parted hers and he pressed his tongue into her mouth. What he lacked in skill, he made up for with passion as he kissed her. He explored her mouth and wrapped his tongue around hers. _Oh my love, how small and sweet your mouth is. So perfect for me_.

She squirmed against the priest and tried to close her mouth against the invasion. She returned his kiss with a bite to stop it. It didn’t appear to faze the passion-drunk man. If anything, it only aroused him more. Claude was already aroused at the sight of her, but he became even more so with her touch. He felt his body throb and harden at the contact.

His arousal became very apparent as it strained against his clothes and rubbed against her lower body. He was filled with desire for this woman and needed to share it with her. With one hand, he forced her lower body against his and started to grind his hips against her. He placed the other on his chest and forced her to trail her fingers down his body to his now fully erect manhood. He pressed her hand against him to show his desire for her. The pressure of her body and touch, even though he was the one behind her touch, was driving him insane with need. His burning erection throbbed against her hand. Esmeralda shrieked and tried to yank her hand away from his pincer-like grasp. _Such fever! Oh God, I need this woman_.

He released her from the embrace and tried to take her by the hand to their bed. The thought had occurred to take then and there. He decided against it. _I’m a gentleman after all, not some peasant rutting his mate on a bare floor_. _She deserves better than a cold floor_. She kept her gaze lowered to the floor and refused to look at anything else. He tried to lead her to their bed, but she planted her feet in and refused to move. He tried to pull against her again and she threw herself on the ground. She glared up at him with a look of disgust.

He sighed, pulled her up, and swept her into his arms with her back against him. If she would not come willingly, he would make her. It was for her own good. And she would enjoy it too.

* * *

Esmeralda knew she could not find her captor physically. He would overpower her as he had already done. She could fight against him by not giving him her mind.

She forced herself out of her body and looked down on the scene with indifference.

She saw Him pull the pale girl’s gown up to expose her hips and kneel behind her. He pulled his manhood out from his clothes and tried to thrust into her. His aim hit its mark, but could not pierce her fully. He tried to force himself in and she heard her scream. The girl must have been dry from fear. Esmeralda knew it was agonizingly painful, but she didn’t feel it.

The man spat on his hand and rubbed it on himself. He tried to place himself within her again and was unfortunately successful. The girl’s body must not have been ready for him, because he could not place himself within her entirely without effort. He moaned some nonsense about her body being small and tight and how the girl was perfect for him.

He thrust into her again and again until his movements and breathing became erratic. He dug his nails into her hips as he climaxed into her and screamed “ESMERALDA!”. He pulled himself out of her and pulled the shivering form against him.

Esmeralda looked down at the scene and thought “Poor girl”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you to all my lovely readers and reviewers. Shout out to Penultimate Penguin for encouraging me to serve up this hot plate of depressing Fresme Smash. I also would like to give a special shoutout to Ciki from the discord server. You asked for Frank, I gave you Frank.
> 
> Frank is Claude's random skull that he keeps in his Sketchy Cell. It somehow turned into a demi-god.


	9. La Sirene

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rated S for Smash.

The dark room was full of shadows with only a few candles and small fire casting their soft light onto bare stone walls. Claude Frollo was immersed up to his shoulders in hot water. He had always been very obsessive over cleanliness. His rank and position afforded him the luxury of bathing more than the average person and he took advantage of that position anytime he could.

He reclined back and let the steaming water relax his tense and aching muscles. He had always been high strung, but the past several months had only made issues worse. His issues with the gypsy girl had taken their toll on him. The loss of Jehan, his dear, spoiled brother made matters worse.

That dreadful night where the mob attacked the cathedral played over and over in his mind. He watched his brother, the one that was once his reason for existence, dashed against the stone by his adopted son, Quasimodo. Claude had held his broken body as his brother took his last breath. In Claude’s mind, he had sacrificed Jehan for the gypsy girl. His life for her life. His heart broke.

He stopped himself. “No, think no more on such things. You can’t change what happened. It’s too late”, he muttered to himself. He reclined back further to relax more and to try to clear his mind from anything to do with the situation that he found himself in.

He heard something across the room. He was not alone.

A shadow appeared at the edge of the room. It approached him slowly and gracefully. It was Esmeralda. She was dressed in the black cloak he had given her to cover herself with. Her hair floated behind her and appeared to glow in the low light. She stared at him with burning eyes as she came to a stop outside of his bath.

She held eye contact as she slowly cast his cloak to the floor, standing naked as Eve before him. The dim light could not hide the muscles of her legs, the curves of her breasts and hips, the lines of her neck, and her tiny waist. Esmeralda looked like a goddess before him with her flowing hair, glowing bare skin, and ethereal beauty. He held a hand out to her to and she took it. His heart pounded when her fingers touched his. She had never willingly allowed him to touch her before.

She had never initiated any sort of contact with him. Claude was surprised when she leaned over and brought his face up to hers. She stared at him with eyes that were full of fire, lowered her gaze to his lips, and pressed a quick kiss against them. Claude froze at the soft pressure of her mouth on his. She pulled back, playfully bit his lower lip, and gave a coquettish smile as motioned for him to kneel before her.

He brought himself on his knees before her, a willing supplicant to his goddess. She brought his head to rest against her abdomen and let out a moan of pleasure when he pressed his lips against her navel. Arousal started to course through his blood like molten lava.

He continued to kiss around her navel and over her rounded hips. Her abdomen started to undulate under his lips. His arousal only grew with every one of her moans and sighs. He fell lower on his knees to kiss her and caress her thighs. She tilted her head back in pleasure at his touch. She did not see when he brought his lips to what lay between them.

He pressed a tentative kiss against her womanhood. “Oh, Claude!” she moaned. He had never heard a sweeter sound from her and had dreamed of the day she moaned his. His goddess enjoyed it so he continued with kisses over her most secret of places

_Oh God… how could you make something so beautiful yet make it forbidden for me? Could it be so wrong? Adam was alone so you made Eve as his companion. How could you forbid it if you made woman for man?_

Esmeralda stopped him, pushed him back into the water with a splash, and joined him in the bath. Claude groaned when she put her legs on either side of his body and straddled him. Her raven hair covered them both and his body burned at the feeling of her skin flush against his.

Their lips met in a kiss of mutual passion. Before, he had always been the one kissing her. Now, she was kissing him. Her tongue invaded his mouth and wrapped around his. Her mouth tasted of spices and honey. They explored each other’s mouths with great fervor.

He was even more surprised when he felt her start to slowly rock her hips against his burning manhood. He pulled away from their kiss to look up at her in wonder. She pouted her lower lip at him and pulled him back in to her kiss. She started to grind harder and faster against him.

Claude’s breath caught in his throat as she started to caress him. She started with stroke his cheeks and neck, then down to his arms and chest. She gently touched the cut over his heart and those that lay scattered over his chest. She stopped her kiss to give him a look of pity. The girl trailed her fingers past them to caress his abdomen now, tickling the soft flesh.

Claude leaned back against the wall of the bath. Her caress was everything he had dreamed it would be. So gentle and soft. He reveled in her touch.

He gave a great moan when she suddenly wrapped her tiny hand around his burning length and guided him into her. Her head was thrown back and eyes were closed as she slowly sank onto him. Claude was overcome with the heavenly sensation of her sliding onto him and his length filling her tiny body so completely. They stayed like that for a moment until Esmeralda guided his hands to her hips and said, “Show me what to do”.

And so he did.

He placed his hands on either side of her hips and raised her off of him ever so slightly and released, allowing for her to slide down on him again. He guided her a few more times until she pushed his hands away from her to take over. Claude wrapped a wet tendril of her hair around his fingers. It appeared to glow.

Waves of hot pleasure filled him as she moaned his name with every plunge of her body. Her moans and the sweet noises she made sounded like a song to him. A siren’s song. His breathing became more erratic as he came closer to his climax.

“My love, what would you give for me?” the minx sighed at him.

“Everything. Take everything. Take my body, my soul, my life. All of it is yours. Just love me” the passion drunk man said to her.

She laughed at him as she continued her hypnotic movement. “Oh my love, that’s what I always hoped you would say!”.

Her lips fell on his once more. He was so lost in passion that he didn’t notice the two hands that started to wrap around his throat.

She didn’t stop her dance of passion and started to scream and moan his name even as she squeezed the life from him. His body exploded into her and she found her pleasure with him. The last thing he saw was a demon of fire smiling at him and screaming his name. And suddenly everything became black.

* * *

Claude awoke panting in a pool of sweat. He sat up and looked around him. He felt his heart beating in his chest. Esmeralda lay asleep next to him.

“It must have been a dream”, he murmured to himself.


	10. Elle Est Indisposee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I suck at summaries. Read the chapter. Warning for Claude doing Claude stuff and Esme doing Esme stuff.

Esmeralda was awaken from her rest by a dull throbbing pain in her lower body. She was annoyed by the interruption in her sleep. She hadn’t been able to have to full night’s rest since before she was rudely taken from the cathedral by her Captor. Her sleep was filled with nightmares and the wretched scenes of her abuse would play again and again through her mind as she tried to rest. She would close her eyes and see His face. His smell surrounded her. It was exhausting.

The priest did not make resting easy either. The longer she spent with him, the more she believed him to be some sort of Vampire. Where most people would rest at night, He did not. He would wake her up from her rest to force his affections on her multiple times. He would lay there, touching her body and stroking her hair until he would stop and rest. Many times through the night he would wake up tossing and turning screaming ‘Jehan’. _Some victim of his no doubt_.

The dull pain in her lower abdomen started to increase in intensity. Esmeralda quickly got out of bed, careful not to wake up the sleeping Monster next to her. She felt a wet heat start to coat her thighs. “NO!” she screamed before she slapped her hands over her mouth. She had completely forgotten about _that thing_.

Her woman’s cycles were irregular to say the least. She would have them some months, and not have them during others. They were a nuisance to her and interrupted her life with the mess and wretched pain that came with them. Before her captivity, she could manage them quietly and privately. She would stay alone during her cycles and no one in her family would speak of them. It was considered a taboo subject and was not something anyone would talk about. As far as anyone was concerned, she was ill during those times.

Esmeralda looked in horror at her gown. The stains were clearly visible to her and were getting darker. She had to hide them and contain her _thing_ before it got any worse. Or He found out.

She looked around to find something to use. Her ripped gown would not do. It was all she had for now. She remembered the children’s clothes in the chest at the edge of the bed, but she thought it would be disrespectful to profane what she believed to be victims of the vampire priest.

There were blankets on the bed, but she did not want to wake up the sleeping dragon. She looked around and saw something else. His outer robe.

Esmeralda picked up the wretched robe with the tips of her fingers to examine it. She didn’t want to contaminate herself by letting anything He had worn touch her more than it had to without a good reason. In this case, she would use it to get back at him. He claimed to have prepared a place with everything she needed. _Such a liar_! It was made of some thick material and was clearly very expensive. Its black weave was well made. Such a shame it belonged to a monster. It would now belong to her. Her health required it and maybe he would realize that he needed to keep his word.

She sat on the floor as the waves of pain spread through her, clutching at her aching body. The pain took her breath away. She had experienced pain with it, but nothing like this before. She was sure that the stress of her captivity had brought it on and only made _the thing_ worse. _Another way that awful man ruined my life_.

With as much strength as she could muster, she tried to rip the sleeve of his robe. She pulled and pulled, but the material would not give. Unlike her gown, it was actually well made and would not rip with something so futile. She used her teeth, but it did not work either. Her gown had ripped without issue, but of course his would not.

She shrieked in frustration at the robe and its obstinacy. It matched the situation she found herself in. Everything of hers, He could rip away, but she could not take anything of His.

Everything that had happened over the past few weeks hit her like a ton of rocks. The wretched priest had taken everything from her. He had taken her Phoebus, her happiness, her chance of finding her mother, and had violated her body time and time again. He had taken her privacy away now and there was nothing she could do to hide it. She was sure he had done it on purpose to humiliate her.

There was nothing she could do but cry. And so she did.

She cried for the life she had and the one she was forced to live. She cried over the possibility of him learning about her vulnerability.

Esmeralda was so lost in he sorrows that she did not hear the stirring behind her.

* * *

Claude was weary and tired. His nights were full of strange dreams about Jehan and Esmeralda. He saw his brother’s broken body again and again and the temptress Esmeralda teasing him with it. The nightmares about Esmeralda teasing him and making love to him before strangling him or killing him continued. He would wake up after them and exert his dominance over her. She must have cast a spell over him to force herself into his dreams in such a way.

Last night, he had no such nightmares. For that, he was thankful. His rest was deep and easy. He had not had a good night’s rest since before his madness towards the girl had set in.

Claude found his body to be cold. He reached over to find Esmeralda and bring her in to his embrace and warm him. She was not there.

He sat up and panicked, worried that she had left him. His heart was racing. Surely not? He had locked everything and there was no way she could leave him unless he let her.

He saw her on the floor with his robe in her lap, and her back was to him. The girl was softly crying. Her black hair fell over her back. Something was causing her distress.

He quietly tossed the blankets off of him and crept over to her, kneeling behind her. The cold of the floor seemed to freeze his flesh. If he was cold, surely she was as well. He put a hand on her shoulder.

He was surprised when she thrust backwards with an elbow to try to strike at him. She narrowly missed the scar on his chest. “Obstinate girl!”

Claude tried to pull her back into his lap to protect her from the cold and to warm his own body. He had to know what was wrong with her too. She swatted at him and struck out like an angry child. She clearly was not interested in any of his efforts.

Her obstinate behavior frustrated him. He was only trying to help her after all! He would not take this nonsense from her. She would submit to him.

He tried to force her into his lap. She tried to strike and fight his touch. He bent her arms over her chest so she could not strike and held her to him. She kept her legs bent and tightly held together. The girl couldn’t move.

He buried his face in her mass of hair and inhaled her fragrance. The faint smell of summer flowers and spices still clung to her strands. That and something that was distinctly Esmeralda. He noted how tangled and dull her hair had become. He would have to remedy that.

Esmeralda sobs shook her tiny body. He could feel every muscle in her body tense against him. Claude murmured soothing words to her to try to calm her distress.

He felt something else. A strange dampness against his leg, under where she was held against him. The girl let out what sounded like a moan of pain and he felt a shiver pass through her body.

Claude ran one of his hands up her legs and caressed the back of her thighs to find out what was causing the wetness.

She shrieked between sobs “Please don’t!”.

He felt wetness on her flesh and pulled his hand away. His fingertips were bloody.

He let go of the girl and stood up. She curled herself into a ball and sobbed harder. He looked back and forth from the girl to his bloodied hand.

He had completely forgotten about what happens to women when they were of a certain age. In his desperation to save her from the executioner, he had not prepared as thoroughly as he thought that he had. He was so focused on taking her way that he forgot about _those_ sorts of things.

Claude was familiar with the Curse of Eve from his religious texts. All women were cursed with suffering and pain during life and birth as punishment for the Original Sin. It was their lot in life and they had to suffer for that reason. To provide relief was a mark against that.

He was also familiar with the illness of the Wandering Womb and hysteria from his medical texts. He had read them solely out of curiosity and desire for knowledge. He had thought the topic to be obscene and his fear of women meant that he would never treat the conditions. Until now.

Hysteria was thought to be brought on by that as well. The girl appeared to often have hysteric episodes. He had witnessed that firsthand. She was anxious, tearful, and would throw tantrums with him. She would often have tremors any time he touched her and her eyes would become dull and empty, as if she couldn’t see him or was even there.

Some of the texts claimed that hysteria could be cured by the release of humors from the womb by a woman finding her pleasure from the act of love. He questioned the veracity of that, but he would do more research on the topic later on. The research sounded pleasurable and he looked forward to experimenting. He felt his nether regions respond to the thought.

 _Back to the problem at hand. She deserved to suffer does she not? She caused my downfall and tempted me with her wanton ways. She forced me to debase myself and break my vows of chastity. She brought this all upon herself and she needs to suffer the consequences of her actions. The Curse of Eve is her lot_.

The girl let out another moan of pain. She looked up at him and for a brief moment, their eyes met. A look of embarrassment, fear, and pain was written clearly upon her tearstained face. Her whole image was truly pathetic.

Claude felt his hard heart soften at that look. The girl was clearly suffering. Her flesh was pale and dark circles were clearly visible under her eyes. Her tangled hair covered her. Her stained gown and bruised arms only helped to complete the image of a pathetic and hurt soul. That look reminded him of the pathetic faces of his abandoned brother and adopted son.

Despite all she had done to him, could he not relieve her suffering even a little? He was as a husband to her after all and it was a husband’s job to care for his wife, even if she was obstinate and clearly did not appreciate his efforts to save her life. The dark part of him wanted to see her suffer as revenge for everything she had caused. He wanted her to feel the agony he felt in his twisted soul.

The part of his soul that still felt compassion and hated to see anyone suffer was a little louder than the dark voice. His heart ached to see her in such a state. He knew he had the power to ease her agony. She entrusted herself (however unwillingly) into his care and it was his duty as a husband to provide for her every need.

He knelt down and wiped his bloodied hand on the robe that she held. Claude gathered the girl in his arms, picked her up, and laid her down on their bed. Esmeralda flinched at the contact but seemed to relax as she realized he would not be joining her. He ordered her to “Stay here. I’ll be back”.

He took his robe, unlocked the door, and left the suffering child by herself for a time. He called for one of the home’s caregivers. There were a few that were still there.

He kept the bare minimum to keep the home in order. He needed a woman to solve this issue. An older woman that had served his family for many years answered him and would serve his purpose well.

He asked her to provide her insight into things a woman needed to be comfortable. He explained that “She is our guest and has been entrusted into my care. It is my duty to provide for her”. She did not question him, nodded in understanding, and gave him a list of things that she thought the girl would need.

Claude had heard some of the caregivers speak of the strange and ill girl that he had taken into his care. The rumor was that she was an abandoned plaything of Jehan’s and in “delicate condition”. He neither confirmer or denied that statement.

He gave her the necessary funds to buy whatever she thought the girl needed and sent her on her way. He also ordered her to find new clothes for the girl. He gathered supplies for things that he would use to ease the girl’s pain and suffering. He gathered water and rags for her to clean herself. He found the necessary herbs that he knew could be used for feminine complaints among his medical supplies. He brewed thyme and lady’s mantle into a light brew for the girl.

Claude took a knife and cut the hem of his robe into strips. He could have it rehemmed later. She would need something to keep the flow away from her perfect flesh. He also got a sick sense of satisfaction of one of his things being so close to her most secret place and her being completely reliant upon her for even her most basic aspects of care.

Maybe she would appreciate him and be thankful for his efforts? He truly hoped so.

She would learn to trust him.

* * *

Esmeralda lay where he left her. Her lower abdomen felt like it was at war with the rest of her body. She did not want to move, because it only made the pain worse. “At least he won’t try to take me while I am unclean” she thought to herself.

She lay for a time, praying that the pain would go away. She heard a knock and her Captor returned with his arms full of things. She sat up as he brought them over to her and eyed him with mistrust. He set a bowl of steaming water and rags down on the chest at the edge of their bed. The faint smell of lavender hit her.

He left again and brought back a mug of something hot. He handed it to her. She eyed it as though it were poison. “What is this?” she asked.

“It’s thyme and other things that will help soothe your pain, my child. You need to drink all of it if you want to feel any better”.

Esmeralda muttered something about poison but realized she would not have to worry about the situation if it was. If it wasn’t poison, at least she would have relief from the cramps. She sipped on it and enjoyed the slightly spicy taste of the herbs and the sweet taste of the honey that he must have added to it as well. The drink warmed her and started the numb the pain in her body.

She finished it and he took it away from her. He handed her a comb and one of the steaming rags. “I brought you something to wash up with. I know it has been some time since you were able to clean yourself. I took the liberty of adding some things to the water”.

Esmeralda was shocked and extremely confused at his newfound acts of kindness towards her. Her mouth gaped at him. _Why would he do such a thing? All he has done is cause me pain and bring destruction! Why?_

He gestured to the water and said “It’s best to do it while it is still hot. Unless you want me to clean you?”. His tone had no malice in it. It sounded like a simple question. _But why_?

She quickly got up and took one of the steaming rags. She most certainly did not want him to touch her or clean her during her _time._ “Please don’t watch,” she begged him. He had already violated her modesty enough. She did not believe he would leave her alone or respect her request.

She was shocked when he turned around and left her. He called out behind him, “I will be back once you finish. I have more things for you”.

Esmeralda was even more confused, but she knew she did not have much time clean herself before he came back. She took the steaming rags and quickly wiped her body down, taking care to clean each limb and make sure off of the blood stains were off of her. The water quickly lost its heat but at least her flesh was clean. The rags left behind the delicate scent of the lavender oil that he must have used. She relished the feeling of cleanliness.

When she finished her bath, she took some of the fabric he left behind and fashioned something to tie around her waist to collect the mess. She quickly lowered her skirt in the event that he walked in. She didn’t want him to see her in such a compromised position. He may have taken her body, but he didn’t take her sense of modesty.

After containing _the thing, s_ he wet her hair down and started to untangle the black mass. She had not been able to properly care for it over the past few days. She knew it would be a chore, but at least it gave her something to do. She went section by section, working out the snarls and knots. While she comber, she tried to understand why He was doing what he was doing. It made no sense.

Esmeralda heard the door open and close behind her. She chose to ignore him and finish the task at hand. _Maybe he will leave me alone_.

* * *

Claude stood there and watched his love work on her hair. It had regained its shine and lost that dull tone. He found the simple act of watching her doing something so routine to be endearing. It made him feel like for a brief moment, their situation was normal.

The girl had her back to him and was clearly ignoring him. He strode over to her and plopped down behind her. He felt her muscles tense and flinch away under his touch. Esmeralda tried to stand up and escape from him, but Claude had other ideas. “Let me”. He pulled her back to him.

He sighed. _Why does she have to be this way? Doesn’t she see that I’m trying to help her?_

He took the comb from her and started to work on the back of her hair until it was silky and tangle free again. The strands felt like silk on his fingers.

Claude pulled all of her hair back and caressed its great lengths. He had fantasized about running his fingers through her hair since the first time he saw her. The simple act seemed so intimate to him.

He started to clumsily braid it. He twisted the strands around each other until it fell down her black in a rope of shining ebony. He admired his handiwork before tossing her braid over one of her shoulders. Claude lowered his lips to the exposed side of her neck. He slowly started to kiss and caress her. He would do no more while she was in such a state.

He settled for pressing gentle kisses along her hairline and ear. His flesh responded the girls squirms against him. He had to leave or he would take advantage of her during a time when it was unhealthy for both of them to.

_Soon she will appreciate my efforts. She will learn that I will provide for her in her time of need._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew. That was fun! Claude did something nice for a change! But don't worry, he will go back to being the human trashcan that we all know and hate/love. 
> 
> Poor Esme. How will she handle Claude doing something nice?


End file.
